


Through The Grapevine

by Noëlle McHenry (Quasi_Detective)



Series: Project Eclipse [14]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Anonymity, Audio Content, Audio Format: Streaming, Blood and Injury, Claustrophobia, Confessions, Creepy, Dead People, Fear, Female Protagonist, Gen, Halloween, Horror, Masks, Murder, Party, Secrets, Suspense, Tuxedos, With A Twist, narrated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 08:55:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8439331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quasi_Detective/pseuds/No%C3%ABlle%20McHenry
Summary: If you listen too closely through The Grapevine, you might just hear something you don't like.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Narrated version: <https://youtu.be/767b7Vvlxk0>

            Out of everything, it was the mask she was given that really threw Jinks for a loop. She worried that it may not fit over her shoulder-length black hair, which was straight but had an odd tendency to curl upward at the ends—making her hair almost constantly appear to be floating— and then she worried about breathing in it. There were two small nostril holes, but the plastic front of the mask had no mouth hole.

            She could not put into words exactly what the mask was supposed to depict. As she stood in the dressing room, staring down at the mask, she suddenly felt antsy. The mask was crossing the uncanny valley in some way, but she could not figure out why she felt that. She had been given a black tuxedo to dress into, with a black dress shirt and a bowtie of the same material as her father’s neckties. It was surprisingly warm in the room. She could hear others, men and women in the same area, changing into their masks and suits, both of which were supposed to be the same as her own.

            It was Halloween night, and she was about to partake in the annual Grapevine event. The Grapevine was a game of subtlety and stealth. The goal was to put names to numbers—to identify people merely from their manner of speech and the secrets they confessed to while under the mask of anonymity—and to go around confessing to your own deepest, darkest secrets while being careful not to be identified yourself. It took place every year in a large building that could have originally been an abandoned warehouse; aptly, the building shared the name of the event.

            Jinks slipped on the black dress pants that came with the tuxedo. She had to admit that she admired how women did not get different clothing at The Grapevine. Everyone was to dress exactly the same, and when you walked around in the dimly lit game area of the building, it was actually surprisingly difficult to tell who was male and who was female. The voice modulators built into the masks only helped to mask gender—they were modulated at random, so there was no telling what kind of voice you would been given for the night.

            This was Jinks’ fourth year attending The Grapevine. It was always fun to talk to complete strangers and to confess her secrets. She had never won the event, not yet at least, but this year, she did not plan to let herself be identified. As she did up the bowtie around her neck, looking at herself in the long rectangular mirror that was hanging on the wall of her stall, she tried to figure out a plan.  
            _I’ll just have to be more discreet,_ she decided. She was usually caught because of her excitement to answer questions. Being talkative was a poor trait to have during The Grapevine. She would just have to be a little closed off. She pulled on the black gloves that were in the inner pocket of her blazer before picking the mask up again. A fear of suffocating had plagued her at the beginning of the event every time she looked at it, but she had not had troubles breathing with it on the last three times, so she decided to push her fear aside. The back of the mask was made of black cloth with an elastic to hold it closed against its wearer’s neck. This helped to hide hair within the black cloth and to better enhance the quality of the voice modulators by having as little holes as possible.

            As she adjusted the mask, Jinks glanced at herself in the mirror. She always looked so creepy in the full Grapevine attire. Her piercing green eyes were visible in the bright dressing room, but would be hidden by shadows once she left through the door to her right. Every stall had a door. They all led to separate paths which would cross at random points. Surprisingly, though she had used the same stall every year prior, the point at which her path crossed with another had always been different. It seemed they really took anonymity seriously at The Grapevine.

            Figuring she was ready, Jinks opened the door and stepped through. The path was very dark, as usual, and the only indication she had of where to go was a faint crimson light down the hall. She started to walk. As she had come to learn was a constant, her path did indeed seem to cross further down the hall than the prior year, this time blending into two different trails instead of just one. There was someone leaning against the wall here. It looked like a man, but it was hard to tell. He had his arms crossed, and he was gazing down at the floor. Maybe he was waiting for someone. Whatever the case, Jinks ignored him, continuing to the main lobby. There were chairs in rows in front of a stage. Someone was standing at the podium, staring down at a cellphone. Jinks sat down beside a stranger. Now she had to wait for everyone else to finish dressing. Behind the stage was the main area. There was a punch bowl and a buffet, but really, no one ever knew why. People would occasionally just get themselves a drink to hold, but no one could ever drink anything because the masks lacked mouth holes. It was against the rules to remove your mask at The Grapevine. If you were identified, you were required to return to the dressing area before removing any of your attire. The only thing that would reveal you as identified along the way was the fact that you had to remove your number from your chest when you were identified. Apparently, it was for privacy’s sake. Jinks didn’t really understand why it mattered, but unbeknownst to her, she was going to learn the reasoning behind it that year.

            Jinks wondered what her number would be this year. The numbers were all randomly picked, it seemed, but were never under four digits. They were usually within the 2000s, she had noticed. A bit antsy, Jinks carefully adjusted her mask. It was stuffy inside, and she was starting to sweat, making the interior of the mask wet and a bit chilly. The event tended to drag on for a few hours at least. She just hoped that she would grow used to the mask this year—occasionally, the urge to reveal herself would start to arise in her mind, just so she could remove the mask and take deep breaths of air. Her fear of suffocating was unjustified, she felt, yet The Grapevine had taught her that she could not suppress that phobia forever.

            When all of the seats were finally filled, a light clicked on, shining down on the person standing at the podium. The man—or perhaps it was a woman—was wearing a different mask than everyone else, probably since he/she wasn’t going to be participating.  
            “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to The Grapevine.” The modulated voice announced. “We’re so happy that you could all make it for this year’s event.”

            Jinks knew the general spiel of the speech, so she tuned most of it out. This year, she had a friend with her. His name was Willoughby (but everyone just called him Will), and they had been friends for years. In fact, she really did like him, a lot, but she worried he saw her as nothing more than like a sister, so she expressed her fondness by teasing him and joking around rather than with upfront compliments. Will had driven her to The Grapevine, as he normally did, but this year, he finally decided to participate. They had agreed to work together by using a little makeshift tune they came up with together that they would hum until they knew each other’s number. This sort of cooperative behavior was not necessarily in good taste at The Grapevine, since total anonymity was expected, but Will was not the kind to hang around a group of strangers without really wanting to leave, and Jinks didn’t mind if he listened in to her secrets; he knew most of them already, anyway.

            As the person at the podium began briefly running over the rules, two others wearing the same mask began walking through the rows of chairs, handing out white cards with numbers. When Jinks got hers, she looked at it: **_#2257_**. She found the pin on the back and used it to clip the card to the chest of her shirt.  
            “Never remove your mask outside of the dressing room, and _never_ tell anyone _any_ personal information.” The speaker warned. “Anyone caught revealing faces or any personal information, be it theirs or someone else’s, will be immediately escorted off of the premises. On that subject, please refrain from saying the names of anyone you know unless you are identifying them to their face. When you are identified, please remove your number from your chest and place it into one of your pockets. Then, promptly make your way to the dressing room and take off your mask and suit. Please return all articles of clothing, and your number, to the front desk before you leave, or else you will receive a bill in the mail equivalent to the price of whichever items you did not return.”

            That line of the rules always made Jinks smirk. If she didn’t return her number, she wondered if they would send her a bill. How much would the bill be? The equivalent of a nametag-sized piece of white laminated poster board with some black ink on it? Though she wanted to laugh, she kept still and quiet—she had snickered at that remark the previous three years, and by that point, someone was bound to recognize her reaction.

            “Please refrain from identifying anyone until at least ten minutes have passed. After that, you may identify to your heart’s content. When you are identified, if you believe you know who it is that identified you, please refrain from identifying them, as you are out the second your name is said.”

           _They sure say “identify” a lot_ , Jinks thought to herself.

           “Small talk is allowed. Please, enjoy yourselves. If you have any questions or concerns, or if your voice modulator malfunctions, feel free to ask the front desk. Impolite behavior will not be tolerated, so have a good time, but do not step over any social boundaries. You may rise. Let The Grapevine commence.”

            Everyone stood up at their own leisure, and gradually, everyone began to make their way to the main area behind the stage. It looked like a decorated gymnasium and was lit similarly as well. It reminded Jinks of her high school’s dances, but cooler. There were soft crimson lights that gave enough light to see, but not enough to distinctly notice any intricate details on anyone, and there were a few spinning purple lights placed around. The purple lights were new, Jinks realized. They were a nice touch.

            Above the sound of people beginning to talk with filtered voices and the quiet Halloween music being played over the speakers that were placed around, Jinks faintly heard the melody she and Will had agreed to use. She began to nudge herself out the crowd that was beginning to form in the middle of the room; Will was a wallflower by nature, so she was fairly certain that his whistling was coming from somewhere beyond the crowd. When she pushed through the strangers around her, she saw someone standing away from most of the others, staring at the huddle. He had his hands in his pant pockets, and Jinks could tell merely from the serious way he held himself that it was Will. She stepped a bit closer, beginning to whistle with him. He wasn’t very good at not seeming like himself in terms of body language, but no one probably expected him to be there, and he wasn’t very well known by the type of people that would attend The Grapevine. His number was written on the card on his chest: **_#2486_**.

            “Nice number,” She said to him. Her modulator made her sound almost masculine, like a teenaged boy. “It’s all even.”

            “I do admire your double two, though.” Will responded. His voice modulator made his voice higher, and Jinks nearly started to laugh at the sound of it.

            Though the girl would have loved to spend the entire night by her friend’s side, it was too risky for them to be seen together. Her other peers knew that she and Will were friends, and even though they didn’t know much about him, if Jinks were to hang around him for too long, she could give them both away at once. Fifteen minutes passed before the first identifications were made; the first was a girl named Amber, #2327, and the second was a man named Tim, #2736. A few more were made in rapid succession, but Jinks wasn’t worried; there were a _lot_ of people participating this year. It was almost intimidating, really, seeing so many people in the same clothes and masks. They almost looked like a cult of some sort.

            The secrets were as juicy as ever. Jinks heard people confess to being bisexual, to cheating on their lovers, and to a bunch of things she would never have imagined to hear people confess to actually having done. Of course, she was not about to miss out on the fun. At certain intervals, she would confess to secrets of her own.  
            “I once stole jewelry from my grandmother’s house,” she said, and, “I’ve catfished a guy,” and, “I think I’m in love with my best friend.”

            She was in a casual conversation with three strangers when someone walked up beside her. All four of them stopped talking, turning their attention to the person now standing near them. Everyone was silent for a long moment.

            “Hello,” one of the strangers, #2564, said to break the silence.

            “I just killed a man.”

            Jinks felt her blood run cold. With those words, the stranger disappeared within the crowd, and Jinks realized she had forgotten to look at his number. She turned back to the three people she had previously been talking with.  
            “What did he just say?” She asked. “Did he just say what I think he said?”

            “Probably some prankster looking to scare us,” said #2672. “What a dick.” Those words earned him a slap on the chest from #2564, who then pointed at him.

            “Codie, I knew it was you!” #2564 exclaimed.

            “Ah, dammit.”

            Jinks tried to forget what she had heard, but she hadn’t had a chance to ask if anyone else caught the stranger’s number. Certainly, the Codie guy had been right; it was probably just a prank, but for some reason, the girl could not shake what she had heard from her mind. She was filled with a sense of unease, and it didn’t help that she’d lost track of where Will was. Gradually, she was starting to feel like the bottom of the mask was constricting her throat. It was becoming more and more difficult to breathe. She wanted to find Will and leave. Overwhelmed by her own panic, she fled for the washrooms. It was dark, and she didn’t know which washroom she’d entered until she saw the urinals. She was about to turn and head back out, but then she froze. Slowly, she turned her head.

            From under one of the stalls, she saw legs. And blood. _Lots_ of blood.

            Her entire body shaking, Jinks slowly stepped closer to the stall. _This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening_ , she kept repeating in her head. Her breathing became all the more labored, now being filtered through her mask’s modulator.  
            “Hello?” She managed to call. “Are you alright?”

            There was no answer. Jinks hesitated in front of the stall door before knocking on it delicately. Her knuckles pushed the door ajar somewhat, making her stop.  
            _Oh God, oh God, oh God, no, no, no, please don’t let someone be dead, please no._

            Jinks pushed open the door. Sitting on the toilet, still fully dressed in costume, was a man. His number card read **_#2973_**. It was hard to tell where the blood was coming from at first, until Jinks saw his throat, which had been cut open. Before she knew what she was doing, she was screaming and backing up against the sinks. As she continued to stare at the corpse in the stall, she ripped off her mask and began to retch. She turned around as quickly as she could and looked at the mirror. God, the smell. She turned on the sink and started splashing water onto her face, soaking her gloves and sleeves. She started to sob, not paying attention when she heard people start rushing in. Shouts filled the building as others saw the victim.

            She had to leave. She didn’t even care about her clothes, or whatever they might fine her, or anything along those lines. She just wanted to leave as quickly as possible. So, leaving her mask behind, she pushed through the crowd with tears streaming down her face. When she ran back into the main area, there will still some people standing there, and they looked at her. She saw #2486, finding Will to be standing by the drink table with an empty glass in his hand. Jinks rushed up to him, grabbing him by the shoulders.  
            “Do you have your car keys?”

            Will nodded.

            “Get me out of here, now. Please.”

            Nobody stopped them from leaving fully dressed. They were allowed to go outside in their outfits as long as they didn’t leave, but really, no one would stop them if they did. Inventory would be taken later, along with checking who didn’t return certain items, but the worry of a bill didn’t even cross Jinks’ mind. It wasn’t very long at all before she was jumping into the passenger seat of Will’s blue hatchback. Will got into the driver’s seat, seeming almost too calm. Running her fingers through her hair, Jinks began to weep hysterically. She had never seen anyone dead before, and the sight before her eyes, combined with the fact that someone had confessed to having just killed a man, was too much for her to handle. She was in full-on panic. Will started to drive, still wearing his mask.

           “Take off the mask!” Jinks lashed.

            Will did not obey. After what must have been ten minutes of driving, Jinks finally started to calm down. However, when she did, she realized something: she had no idea where they were. Looking around out of the windows, she tried to find some sort of indication of where Will had drove, but she had never seen this part of the city before.

            “Will?” She asked. “Where are we going?”

            “I have to show you something,” he told her.

            “Show me what? Fuck, Will, I just want to go home! Do you know what happened there? A man’s _dead_ , Will! _Dead!_ ”

            “Did anyone identify him?” Will asked.

            Jinks shot Will a disgusted look. “Ex _cuse_ me? Who cares, Will?! He’s dead!”

            “It’s a good cover, I think.” Her friend droned. “It adheres to the golden rule.”

            “You’re scaring the hell out of me.” Jinks mumbled. “What golden rule? What are you talking about?”

            Will turned his head and looked at her. “Never kill anyone you know, unless no one else knows that you know them.”

            “This isn’t funny, you asshole! Stop saying shit like that!”

            “You haven’t identified me yet.”

            “Fine, you want me to identify you? _Willoughby, I knew it was you._ ” She identified him with a voice that was thick with sarcasm and frustration. “There. Happy?”

            “My name isn’t Willoughby.”

            “Will, then!” She impatiently snapped.

            “Still wrong.”

            Jinks froze. Something wasn’t right. Slowly, she turned her eyes onto Will. It wasn’t until then that she realized he looked bigger. She could smell a faint iron-like scent lingering in the air, the smell of freshly cut meat. As she continued to stare at the man in the driver’s seat, who was waiting for the stoplight to change color, she slowly began to piece things together in her mind. The light turned green.

            She wasn’t sitting with Will.


End file.
